


The Autopilot

by Davechicken



Series: The Pilot and his Broken Saber [6]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Depression, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:45:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6529861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poe realises this relationship is completely different to any he's had before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Autopilot

Poe Dameron has never been one for real, long-lasting emotional discomfort. So he tells himself, anyway. He’d been very low when he’d lost his mother, but he’d been eight, for Force’s sake. Any eight year old would be sad - any _eighty_ year old would be sad - when they lost a parent. So he doesn’t think that really… is indicative?

He’d been eight. And it had shaken his very world. And he’d been in pieces for a long time, until one day he’d come down the stairs at night, after a nightmare… and seen his Dad crying at the kitchen table. Poe hadn’t seen his Dad cry for weeks and weeks. He’d been so strong for him that he’d just assumed it was normal that adults were sad until the funeral and then they stopped. He realised, then, that it wasn’t true. That his father had been holding it together for him, and he’d realised _that_ was what adults did. They took it inside, and they helped kids, and that was what Poe would do. He was almost an adult himself (so he’d said, inside his head) and he’d jumped into Kes Dameron’s arms and comforted his father right back.

And since then, he’d never really let anyone else see him sad for long at all. He’d learned that people felt more comfortable around him when he smiled, and they liked to tell him what was wrong, and he would give them advice. _He_ liked that, because he could tell he was _helping_. Or trying. He gave the best advice he could, but mostly people enjoyed knowing they could confide in him and he would handle it calmly, sensibly, kindly. 

Whenever it got too much, whenever he’d felt the flicker of a dark cloud, he’d gone flying. It was… easier. Up there, you had logic, calculations, adjustments, weather, navigation… and you could do all that, but if you did, you’d die. You had to do all of that on the seat of your pants, your conscious mind left behind in favour of the survival instinct. You could think a lot faster when your life was at risk, and it took up all of his internal capacity. Some people were dangerous, if they flew when emotionally compromised. Poe flew better, because of how hard he would run from the pain. If he did it long enough, whatever storm of unhappiness had been brewing would have long since faded. The euphoria of flight would chase it away, and he’d get down to ground.

And then if he crashed, after, and went straight to bed, well. So what? He’d been working hard. It wasn’t that he was avoiding things. Nope.

He’s starting to think that maybe his previous method of coping was a little… avoidant? No. A lot. But it had worked for all these years. Either his problem would also be processed in the background while he was aerial, or he’d sleep and the answer would come in his sleep, or the question would go. It had _worked_. Mostly.

Except for after Jakku, and the _Finalizer_. That had been a step too far. He’d brushed off the Resistance’s cursory, mandatory and very much ticky-box-obligation counselling. He’d attended the required number of sessions, signed all the ‘I feel fine’ forms they asked, and walked back into daily life with the tall tale of his escape and rescue, pushing the focus onto Finn. No one asked him about the _other_ stuff, though he caught Snap eyeing him a few times. 

He’d been a mess after that, and no amount of flying had fixed it. He never lost his temper - not really - even when he was defending someone else’s honour. He’d be the one who stepped in and calmly split _up_ a fight, or politely corrected someone if they said something harmful or noxious. He never - he never went around using his fists, and he never, ever, **ever** shouted at people.

But he had. To Kylo. He’d done all of those things, and they weren’t things he was proud of. He was least proud of all for taking sexual advantage of him, even if he’d consented. It wasn’t the kind of sex he wanted out of life, and that’s why he’d kept his hands to himself, after. Part of why. He’d wanted to fix their relationship, and not complicate it. He’d wanted things to be like they were _supposed_ to be, or as close as he could get it. Which was ridiculous, because they’d known one another for longer than he could properly work out, because Kylo had been so far into his head that he probably could remember Poe’s past better than he could, and because - because.

And what did he go and do? He got upset - _again_ \- wound up on adrenaline and the fear of losing him, and he’d - they’d… Poe doesn’t _regret_ having sex with Kylo, no. It had been damn well incredible, and he can’t remember the last time it ever felt like that. It was… it wasn’t just sex. It had been emotionally full, heavy, resonant… dangerous. 

Everything about Kylo Ren is dangerous. The man is a walking minefield. He has this gravity well of his own, into which hearts and peril and pain and love are pulled. 

Poe is used to helping other people. He’s used to that, because it makes sense. He has the level-headedness, so he shares it with the world. He sees pain, and he goes to fix it. It’s not even like it’s a conscious decision, really. He just finds himself hearing everyone’s life story and offering a shoulder and a contact number for someone he knows who knows someone who knows something. He can’t _help it_. And being around Kylo tripped every last switch of **protect him**  that Poe had. 

And then Kylo suddenly hadn’t needed him. Which. Okay. Was nice, but also… now, suddenly, he _didn’t need him_. And having it thrown right in his face: _Did you love me because I depended on you?_

Poe can’t deny he likes feeling useful, that it helps him feel good about himself. It’s one of the things he _likes_ about himself, his caring personality. But now he’s wondering if it’s unhealthy? He did get upset when Kylo hadn’t needed him, but he’s… it’s…

…he… needs… Kylo. Too. He realised that, when the other man ended up calming _him_ down. He doesn’t remember that ever happening. It never _needed to_. He’d never let himself be the one who needed helping, ever. It just didn’t… not emotional help. He’s been clapped on the shoulder a few times after a mission gone wrong, but he’s never actually… **broken down**  in front of anyone, and now he’s doing it on an increasingly frequent basis. And it’s _terrifying him_. It’s terrifying him, because suddenly his control is gone. 

Who he _is_ is gone. Who he’s **been**. For years. The man he thought of as ‘Poe Dameron’ either was a lie, or not all the truth, or he’s gone and he doesn’t know who he _is_ in his place. And he can’t fully understand what’s going on. He can draw the things in a line: Jakku. _Finalizer_. Kylo. First Order. He can see the steps, but he doesn’t know how being tortured _once_ somehow broke him so far open? He doesn’t have the years of psychological abuse Kylo had, at Snoke’s hands. He’s sure that - in comparison to many other interrogatees - he got off pretty lightly, but it… it… he’s _different_. And out of control.

He keeps - he keeps _losing it_. Losing it. Admittedly, only in front of Kylo, but the man has this ability to get _all the way under his skin_ and make him **weak**. And Poe’s beginning to realise he really does need Kylo in the way other people have needed him. And maybe that means he looked down on the people he helped, because he hates himself, just a little bit. He hates himself, and that makes him feel ridiculously guilty. He thinks he didn’t hate everyone else, and he certainly doesn’t hate Kylo when he’s hurting, so why does he hate himself?

None of this makes sense. 

Kylo makes him _fall to pieces_. He doesn’t even try to break him, doesn’t slide into his head and pull him apart, and still he somehow sees deeper under his skin than anyone else ever has, even his father. It’s - it’s both wonderfully compelling, and absolutely ground-shatteringly _terrifying_. He wants more, and he also wants to hide. He wants to hide, because some of the things Kylo finds are not… pretty. They’re freaking disgusting, if he’s honest. 

Poe’s starting to wonder if he’s ever actually _been in love_ before. He’s loved people, sure. Loved them really deeply. Taken pleasures in their pleasures, joy in their joys, but he’s never… he’s never… no one’s ever made him cry, or want to run away in terror. And Poe doesn’t know if that means it _is_ love, or if it means it’s **bad**. He does know that now - now he’s seen what it can be like - that those simple, easy, gentle loves won’t ever be enough for him. Even if he wanted to leave Kylo, which he doesn’t… no one else _knows_ him. Really, truly, **knows** him. Or is working on it. No one’s ever looked _deeper,_ all too happy to take the comfort and smiles, and never even tried to see for anything underneath, let alone try to _help him_.

Physician, heal thyself.

Dangerous. That’s what it was. Dangerous, to suddenly be _known_ , to be **open** , to be _read_. Not that he thinks Kylo would ever deliberately harm him, no, but these things have been kept from view for so long now that Poe isn’t even sure how you handle them gently, nicely. Can you? Is it even possible to? 

He has no idea who he can ask about this. People normally ask _him_. They ask him what he thinks of their problems, and he answers with a level head. Now he has questions, and he realises he doesn’t actually know anyone to…

Not true. He’s surrounded by single people, people married to the job, or people whose relationships he really doesn’t want to emulate. For all he respects Leia Organa as a General and leader, he also sees how she failed as a mother, and… well. How she and Han failed as a couple. And it’s hard for him to say that to himself, but true. 

The only person whose relationship he’d want to emulate is his own parents’. Which means if he wants advice… it’s going to have to be his father: Kes Dameron. Also, he should probably tell him he’s dating the ex-Dark Jedi. Right? Especially now it’s serious. He’s had light flings in the past, but none had ever got so serious he’d felt the need to tell his father. 

Poe wants Kylo. And maybe it’s selfish, that wanting. Maybe it’s maladaptive. Maybe he’s craving someone so broken because of the way it makes him into some saviour figure, or some white knight… or maybe the reverse. Maybe he wants Kylo for that way the man can climb into his skull and pull out secrets he thought didn’t even exist. Maybe both. But he wants him, and he remembers what it was like before - before. When they were apart. When he lost him, and how it felt when he got his _friend_ back. And better. Better memories, too. 

He needs to ask his dad for advice. 

He’s going to ask for help from two sources. If that isn’t progress, he doesn’t know what is. 

***

Poe’s kept in touch with his father. Just… updates. Here and there. Polite calls and so on. Kes Dameron had made no small thing of how he was disillusioned with the Good Fight, and Poe had politely refused to back down. It wasn’t as if they _fought_ about it, it was simply a known point of contention.

And maybe he called less than he should. Maybe. But he’d ceased to have anything real to tell his sole, surviving parent a long time ago. It was more formality that kept them in touch. But this? Dating a Jedi of questionable Light/Dark allegiance? Kind of a big deal.

Plus, there’s only so many times you can lie to yourself that it’s the selfless thing to do, to give up most of your allotted allowance of encrypted holo-calls outside of the Resistance, in favour of those who needed it. He needs to call his dad, and when he politely asks the clerk in charge of comms, he’s ushered in right away with a soft smile.

“Of course, Commander Dameron.”  


There is no saying his dad will be free, or want to talk, or–

“Poe?”  


“Hey, Dad. Is it a good time?”  


He looks… well. The same as he always does. He smiles, but then leans in, and his eyes wander over the projected lines of Poe’s face. He submits to the investigation, squirming slightly. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I… uh. Dad. I kind of… wanted your advice on something.”  


The fact that Kes’ eyebrows reach for his receding hairline doesn’t go unnoticed. Poe feels awful that his asking for advice is such a shock, but he’s been so self-reliant for so long, now, that it’s probably a red letter day. 

“Okay. I’ll help however I can, you know that.”  


“I’ll - okay. So. I’m dating someone. I mean, pretty seriously. I’ve known him for years, but there was a long time when we… when we were apart, and now we’re back together, and–”  


“It’s the Organa-Solo boy, isn’t it?” His dad looks as conflicted as he feels. “Didn’t he… didn’t he… go Dark?”  


“Yeah. He did. And I ran into him, like that. But then he… he saw… it’s complicated, okay? He was manipulated for years, and he didn’t think he had a way out. When Luke and Rey–”  


“Luke Skywalker?”  


“Yeah, and Rey, another Force-sensitive… they went up against Snoke, and Kylo joined them, and he tried to help kill him, and then he came home with them.”  


“I see. So he’s ‘Kylo’, now. And you and he…”  


“Yeah. And I’m not gonna lie, it’s hard. He… he’s pretty messed up, from all the First Order crap. And he’s… he’s not… it’s hard. And I’m kind of… scared?”  


“You’re scared he will hurt you?”  


“Not like that!” Poe blurts, horrified by the every idea. “No. No, he wouldn’t. Dad, he wouldn’t. It’s not like that. It’s not that he would ever - ever - **ever** \- deliberately hurt me. He wouldn’t.”  


“I don’t mean physically, Poe.”  


“Well… no. I mean. Yes. He hurts me, but… but… it’s not like he _means_ to. He’s hurt, and he’s trying, and I’m trying to understand and help, but it’s a mess. And then - and then–”  


“Poe.”  


“Dad.”  


“Poe… what is it you want to ask me?”  


“I want to know if I’m doing the right thing or not. I want to know… I want to know, am I… am I broken? For wanting to fix him? I spend my life trying to help people, and is that just because it’s what I do, not because I’m - I’m - _good_? Am I just as fucked up?”  


“Poe, son.” Kes pinches the bridge of his nose. “If he felt fine tomorrow, would you - would you be happy for him? Or would you find some way to break him again, just so you could keep fixing him?”  


“ _That’s what I’m worried I’m doing!”_  


Crap. No going back from that. He waits for the inevitable disowning, and instead there’s silence. Which is maybe worse. 

“Dad, I… he lost the Force, then he got it back, and I was… I was happy for him, but then I thought he wouldn’t need me any more. And I thought… he’d leave me. And I didn’t want him to leave me, and… I sort of… I kind of wished he was still like he’d been.”  


“Having that feeling is different from… would you take it from him? Or do something else to injure him? Or… help me out, here. Would you ever make something go wrong just to keep him hanging on your apron strings?”  


“No. Not… deliberately.”  


“Then… there’s your answer. There’s nothing _wrong_ in wanting to help people.”  


“But does that mean we’re really in love, or am I just trying to - to - get cheap thrills, or–?”  


“Poe. You’re here, worrying. You’re worrying about him, and you, and how you are together. If you didn’t love him - even a little - you wouldn’t even _think_ to ask if it was the right thing or not.”  


“Okay.” Poe is so very, very confused.   


“There’s something else, isn’t there?”  


How does he know? Yeah. Maybe another reason he hasn’t been so much in touch. His dad always could tell if he was uncomfortable. His mom had been the same. 

“I don’t… open up. I guess. To people. I mean I talk to them, but I don’t… I don’t…”  


“Let them see you’re Human, and hurting, too?”  


Poe fiddles with the edge of the holo-recorder, eyes down.

“But with Be– uh, Kylo, you said?”  


“He… he sees it. I don’t know if it’s because he used to know me, or because he damn well violated my mind when we ran into one another across the war lines, or if it’s because he _understands_ , or I let him, but– I’m afraid. I’m really afraid. What if I need him more than he needs me? What if I open up and it goes wrong?”  


“Do you trust him to try? To try to help you? Even if he might get it wrong?”

“…I trust he _wants_ to.”  


“Poe. You haven’t asked me for any advice since you were a boy. You’ve come to me with your own plans for your life since… for a long time. You’ve pushed me away every time I’ve asked if you needed any help or guidance. And while I’ve been confident you were doing okay, I’ve worried about you taking it all on your own shoulders. Now… now you’re letting other people in again. Don’t you think that’s a good sign?”  


“No?” Although it’s a lie. “Yes.”  


“Love - real love… I only know what it was like with your mom, Poe. And then with you. There were times she annoyed me, and me her. And times when I hurt her, or she hurt me. But what was real… what it boiled down to… she wanted me happy, and I wanted her happy. And we kept on at it, even when it was hard. We were as open and honest as we could be, and when I was with her… I knew. I knew she wanted me happy, even if it made her sad, but that she’d prefer we were both happy. And sometimes that meant telling me I was wrong, or admitting she was. And me, too.”  


“You… you never worried it was… bad, or wrong?”  


“What do you think is wrong, Poe?”  


“I mean, it’s not like - he didn’t torture me into it. I used to love him, before that. And I hated him for what he did, but… what if I only want him for his broken bits?”  


“Then see him when he’s happy, and see how you feel. If you’re bored, or you resent him, then you need to ask yourself why. And if you see him happy, and it makes you happy… and you make him happy, and you’re prepared to keep fighting, doing all you can… Poe. You have _never_  told me about anyone before him.”  


“No one made me feel this much.”  


“Then I think you already know what you want, and you want my blessing. So: you have it. If he’s good for you, then you have all my blessings. And I’ll expect you bringing him to see me, before long.”  


“Even… you know what he did, right?”  


“If you trust him, and the General trusts him, then that’s enough for me. I don’t know what happened to him, but if it’s bad enough that you looked like you did when you told me… Poe, that boy was never bad. Troubled, but not wicked.”  


“No. Not wicked. I think he hated every day he was with the First Order.”  


“Then you bring him here, and we’ll all sit down and break bread. And you remember if you need me, for anything at all, I’m still your father. And I still love you, and want to help you.”  


“Thanks, Dad.”  


“You don’t need to thank me. I love you.”  


Poe smiles. “ _Thanks_ , Dad.” Then there’s a blinking light in the corner, and Poe turns. “Ah. I think my time’s almost out. I - oh! How are you?”

“I’m fine, now I heard from you,” Kes replies. “Seriously, son. I’m so happy for you. Call sooner, okay?”  


“Okay. I promise. I- yes. Bye, Dad.”  


“Take care, Poe.”  


***

When the day is over, Poe is surprised to find he’s the first one home. Home. They’ve only been here a night, and already he’s assigning that term to it, but it feels like it is. Because it’s not just somewhere they fucked, it’s somewhere they made a promise, and that means something. A lot of somethings. 

There’s most of their stuff delivered by logistics in one corner. Two sets of boxes: one from Kylo’s place, one from his locker and his bunkspace with the rest of his squad. He’d never been rank-conscious, always chosen to bunk close to his team mates. Clearly someone’s got the memo that the situation might be changing. 

Two sets. Their ephemeral lives, packaged and shipped and dropped off, waiting to be unfurled. Poe’s not had a real - a real, wide, homely-home in the longest time. Even as a Republic pilot, his lodgings had been on the sparse side. They usually favoured a functional private area, and wider public spaces for the group to wander in and out of. This reminds him of his childhood, and not in a bad way.

Poe smiles when Kylo gets in.

“Oh, am I late?”  


“No, I’m early.”  


“You did all your flight stuff?”  


“Yeah, I got a lot of manoeuvres booked tomorrow, did the supervisor checks on the berths, and went through the personnel reports. We only had minor injuries, and nothing disfiguring or disabling, so we got off pretty lightly.”  


“Great.” Kylo even sounds like he means it, and Poe sees some tension in his stance, but it’s maybe a more ‘normal’ level than sometimes he sees.   


“What about you?”  


“Mom’s gonna get in touch with Luke, so I can finish my training with him. And… I asked her to call Chewie.”  


“Ah. Have you seen him…?”  


“Since I got back? No. He made himself scarce, and I never asked. I’m afraid you weren’t the only one I was initially avoiding. I… need to talk to him. About Han.”  


“You think you’re ready?”  


“I don’t think I’ll ever really be ready, but it needs doing.”  


Poe can understand that. He walks over, hand out, and takes Kylo’s when he lifts it. “You want me to come with you, or do you need to do it alone?”

“I think… alone. He doesn’t know you the same, and… he’s probably going to get very angry with me. For entirely justifiable reasons. I can hold my own against him, but if he upset you to wanting to protect me… Poe, a Wookie’s rage is not something anyone wants to see, first-hand.”  


The pilot nods. “Okay. I can… I can see. But I want you to come find me straight after, even if you’re angry, or upset, or… just come get me, and we either talk, or we wait until you’re ready to?”

Kylo smiles, and kisses his hair. “You’re too good to me, Poe.”

“That’s what a relationship is,” Poe corrects him. “Speaking of… you kind of have the Dameron family seal of approval.”  


His tall boyfriend looks surprised. “You talked to your dad?”

“Yeah. I was… I was a bit… this is really more intense than any relationship I’ve had before, and I wanted advice from someone whose marriage I believed in.”  


“They always did seem happy,” Kylo agrees. “So; he’s not about to assassinate me, in my sleep?”  


“Not unless you try to hurt me, no.”  


“Never,” Kylo says.   


Poe believes it. He tries to imagine a Kylo after talking to Chewbacca. It’s going to be emotional, but he thinks it might help clear the air. And weirdly, thinking that through doesn’t make him feel the same ‘I’ll be redundant’ feeling he did last night, so that’s nice.

“Dinner?” Poe asks. “And then I thought we could relax on the couch?”  


“Sounds wonderful to me.”  


***

After all the emotional trauma of the past few days, dinner is strangely sedate, and segues softly to the couch. Poe tells Kylo all about the planet they’re on - having had a chance to find out, now - and his schedule for tomorrow. He tells him about the local timings, the dining schedule, and the location of amenities.

You learn to get those details first, when you move. The rest follows.

In return, Kylo tells him about his medical check up. He’d gone for one, once the triage was over, and it was no longer emergencies only. Tells him that the scans and tests showed nothing really different, other than some minor hormonal re-balancings. 

“Could that have caused it? The Force thing?”  


“Well… as they… uh. Think it’s a problem with my mood, then… yes.”  


“Your mood?”  


Kylo shuffles. “They want to diagnose me as suffering from… well. Amongst other things, Post Traumatic Stress related issues. And some other terms. Really, they said I should see someone to talk it through, rather than get hung up over labels.”

“How do you feel about that?” Poe’s been around people suffering post-mission stress, of course he has. Sometimes one mission is awful, or sometimes it’s the gradual wearing down, the constant grind that causes people to flip and need to either leave, rest, or re-evaluate.   


“I don’t know. I mean… I know I’m not… right? I know I’m… that it affected me. I don’t know how I feel knowing that it means I’m sick, but…” Kylo shuffles. “Also, maybe a bit positive? Like, it’s something they know about. And can do things to help, if not cure. It means I’m not… crazy? Or I am crazy, but it’s normal crazy, not… wrong crazy.”  


“Anyone would feel… affected after what you went through, Ky. That’s normal. I mean… as far as there is such a thing as… ‘normal’.”  


“You aren’t… embarrassed to know it, to know I’m… I don’t want to say ‘ill’…”  


Poe grabs for his hand. “No. Not at all. It’s like breaking a leg from falling down. No one judges you if parts of you bend, stretch, snap when they’re under pressure. Hell, most of my squad have been in front of the unit shrink more times than you’d guess. When something goes wrong, or when… when the casualties mount up…”

Kylo turns his wrist, and their fingers lock together. “I want to get over it. If I can. I don’t want to forget what happened to me, and pretend like I didn’t do what I did. I want… I want to understand why, and stop it from ever happening again.”

“And you can. You can,” Poe tells him, feeling a swelling hope. “I’ll help you. It won’t be easy - none of this is - but you’re safe, with me. I know you wanna get better, and I know…” His eyes slide sideways. “How hard it is. At least you’re admitting there’s a problem.”  


“Poe?”  


“Yeah. Look. I’m sorry. I know I have my own freak outs, and… I kind of have pretended I don’t, all these years. But when… when I got back from Jakku…”  


The hand in his almost pulls away, but he doesn’t let it.

“It’s okay,” Poe insists. “You did a lot of… of… not damage? You pushed me to somewhere I hadn’t been. And I’m not angry, not any more. I know why you did it, but when you did… I kind of… I didn’t talk about it. At all.”  


“…which is why you were so angry with me? That first night? Other than the fact I did it.”

Poe nods. “I pushed everyone away, because I didn’t want them to know how bad I was. I guess… like you used to, when… when Snoke was in your head? It was… I was… ashamed.”

The pilot looks up, and then yelps as he’s suddenly lifted and dropped down into Kylo’s arms, on his lap. 

“I know how that feels. I am still sorry I did it.”

“I know. And I forgive you…” He touches Kylo’s face. “But I didn’t know how to process it, and I didn’t know how to talk to people about my own pain, and I locked it up. And then you came along, and you _knew_. And I was angry, but also afraid, and I guess I knew you’d understand. I didn’t need to tell you, because–”  


“Because I’d done it, but also… been in your position.” Kylo’s breathing is slow, ponderous. “How do I help you work through it?”  


“I think you already are,” Poe admits. “I would never have admitted this, before. And now I am. So… you don’t get to feel worried about how you feel. I had it done once, and I fell apart. I have no idea how you _coped_.”

Kylo’s smile is sad. “Simple: I didn’t.”  


“But you did, or why would you still be here, and be **here**?”  


“The same way you will cope.”   


Poe submits to the arms that cuddle him tighter. 

“We’ll both cope,” Kylo continues. “Whatever words or terms, or ways we find. We’ll find them, together. I made this mess, and… it’s only right I help put it right.”  


“You don’t have to fix me, Kylo.”  


“No, I don’t. But I want to. I want to, to prove I can. And because I want you happy. You mean so much to me, and I want to know I can be a good thing in someone’s life, for once. Not a disappointment, a travesty. I want… to know I can be good.”  


Poe thinks about this for a moment, then smiles. “Okay. I still think you’re incredibly brave for this, though. I mean it. It takes more guts to fix things - yourself - than it does to fly a ship. If you crash the ship, you maybe don’t walk away. If you crash **you** …”

“You might walk away, and continue to hurt,” Kylo continues. “Or hurt others. Or have them hate you.”  


“Yeah. Or hate yourself.”  


“I already do that, Poe.”  


Poe knew, but hearing it admitted is still hard. 

“Then… then we gotta work on how we stop that. Because you’re a strong, and fierce, and wonderful person, Ky. You are. And it’s about time you realised all the good things about you.”  


His lover’s arms tighten, and there’s a kiss behind his ear. “And it’s about time you _believed_ the same about yourself, Poe, instead of slap a smile on and pretend everything is okay, all the time, every day.”

Yeah. About that. He wriggles, and shoves until Kylo lies down, and he can lie on top of him. “Working on it, buddy.”

“All anyone can ask for.”  


Poe feels his breathing fall into sync with Kylo’s, curls his fingers in his shirt, and the world is still scary as it ever could be, but he knows he’s not in it alone. Not any more.


End file.
